A Welcome Distraction
by PhoebeSnow
Summary: It's been five months since the battle of Wakanda. Some days, Steve needs something to take his mind off of what's he's lost and to take solace in what he still has. Natasha helps with that.


**A/N: After seeing Nat's hair in a braid, I was hit with a plot bunny that became this little ficlet. Enjoy! **

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Looking back, it was a lucky thing that he was given the super soldier serum. Because his body operated at a superhuman efficiency, Steve didn't need to sleep very long. Three, four hours at best and he's good to go. Not that there was much he did these days.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Even though half the entire population of the world has been wiped out, there were still people who committed crimes. The Avengers were needed and they answered the call, but it was different now. They fight in desperation and no matter how much time has passed, they continually grieve for their lost teammates, for the world.

Thanos destroyed countless lives when he snapped his fingers and everyone felt the sting as if it happened yesterday.

Life was not truly life without your loved ones.

Steve felt the brunt of that loss harder than when he'd believed he lost Bucky the first time. What's worse, the second time he lost his best friend, he disappeared in front of him, disintegrating like specks of dust blown away by the wind. It made him think of the words from the English Burial Service. _Ashes to ashes, dust to dust._ But this was not what God intended. It was not natural and **certainly** not his will.

To make matters worse, he lost his other best friend, Sam. A man whom he'd grown to respect as a fellow soldier - they were both retired military and they shared many similarities that helped develop their camaraderie - and as a person.

And there was Wanda, the young, troubled woman who'd been adopted into the Avengers family a few years ago. Steve loved her like a little sister and even felt a bit fatherly towards her at times - although that position mainly belonged to Clint. She had lost so much in her life and deserved happiness. Yet she had been denied even that.

Many nights, Steve lie in bed and wished that he could have been one of the people to be taken. If he could've substituted for Bucky, Sam and Wanda and many others, he would have done so in an instant. Sadly, all the wishing and hoping in the world was not going to bring them back.

There was _something_ worth being grateful for, though. Natasha hadn't been taken. As broken as the Avengers were, this was her home and Steve was her husband. He would've understood if she wanted to get away, to escape for a while, but she didn't. At the end of every day, she was always waiting for him in their shared room.

Some nights, he cried in her arms when the grief was too much to bear. She'd hold him and sing quietly in Russian to soothe him until he finally fell asleep. Other nights, he'd come in with a fire in his eyes that she'd recognize well. They'd make love then, giving each other pleasure and sating the passion inside of them until they were too tired to do anything but fall asleep.

It was a blessing they had each other after the decimation. Otherwise, Steve would have likely lost his sanity as the last person he loved was gone. Natasha, in turn, would have shut herself off from the world and drawn in to herself, becoming cold and detached like the woman she was before she met him. They were truly an extension of one another.

On this particular night, he stayed up late, unable to sleep. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago and he decided to go outside for a run. He ran dozens of laps around the complex. He stopped at a hundred and trudged his way back to he and Natasha's bedroom. Light snoring let him know that she was sleeping soundly so he was careful not to wake her.

He was in the shower for a lengthy stretch of time before he got out and dried his body. After a brief deliberation on whether to sleep in the buff or wearing a pair of boxers, Steve chose the latter. Then he slipped into bed and he gazed at Natasha's sleeping form with affection.

Blonde locks splayed out around her head like a messy halo and her skin looked like pure ivory from the shine of the full moon through the curtains. She lie on her side, body curled in the fetal position which was the way she normally slept.

Steve felt his heart tug. Regardless of how many times he'd seen her like this, her appearance was always so serene. Not an ounce of sadness was evident in her features. If the corners of her lips were upturned a bit more, he'd say she was smiling.

Careful not to disturb her, he took a lock of her flaxen hair and twirled it around his finger. He would be lying if he said that he didn't miss her red color, but the blonde had won him over long ago. Natasha's hair had grown a little past her shoulders and she always kept it straight. Not that it mattered too much to Steve. He loved his wife no matter what she looked like.

His eyes landed on the alarm clock next to him. It was 1:36 am, the perfect time for him to go to sleep and wake up in five hours, but he already knew that sleep would elude him tonight. His mind was in a flurry of activity.

_Maybe I should go to the living room and read a book. I don't want to just lie here until the sun comes up._

The super soldier moved to get out of bed and he had one foot off the mattress, but the voice of his wife stopped him.

"Steve?"

He turned to look at her. "Yeah?"

"Is everything alright?" She sat up and pushed back her hair from her face.

Steve shook his head. "Everything is fine. I just..."

"You can't sleep." It wasn't a question.

Deflated, he nodded and gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah."

"C'mere."

Steve didn't hesitate to do as she said and he sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. She sat between his legs and finger-combed her hair so it wasn't as messy. When her hands stilled, he started to braid her hair.

This had become a ritual for them after the snap. Several times when Steve had trouble sleeping, Natasha would wake up. She would talk to him, console him, but he never could rid the sensation of restlessness. Then one day, he asked if he could braid her hair. The request was on the unusual side as Steve never had anything to do with Natasha's hair, but she let him.

As he kept his hands busy, criss-crossing her hair, Natasha heard his breathing slow and felt the beat of his heart simmer down considerably. Together, they discovered that braiding her hair helped him relax, so many nights, he found himself doing just that. And she didn't mind at all, since it always was a pleasure having someone's fingers work on her hair.

Natasha loved the feel of Steve's artistic hands. They were rough with callouses, but still smooth and gentle. He knew how to touch her with as much tenderness and care as he did with his paintbrush.

She hummed as he twisted the long strands and rested a hand on his thigh, stroking him. When Steve finished, he kissed her neck and tugged her braid gently. "All done."

"Nice work, as usual." She didn't need to see it to know he'd done a good job.

"Thanks. I do my best." He gave her a wry grin and reached out for her, pulling her warm body flush against his so they fit like a pair of spoons.

Neither spoke and they didn't have to. They knew by now how to communicate with simple things, a look, a touch. It was unknown what the future held, but as soulmates, Steve and Natasha would always have each other to lean on.


End file.
